


Come what may

by AchillesLament (11Mydesign11), You_Are_As_Alone_As_I_Am



Category: Hannibal (TV), Moulin Rouge! (2001)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Burlesque, Dancing and Singing, Eventual Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Feminine Will Graham, First Time, Hannibal - Freeform, Hannigram - Freeform, Jack Crawford - Freeform, Jealous Hannibal Lecter, Light Sadism, Like Moulin Rouge, M/M, MHBB2018, Manipulation, MurderHusbandsBigBang2018, Poet Hannibal, Possessive Hannibal, Will - Freeform, Will Graham Has Encephalitis, dancer Will, mason verger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 03:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16526114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/11Mydesign11/pseuds/AchillesLament, https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Are_As_Alone_As_I_Am/pseuds/You_Are_As_Alone_As_I_Am
Summary: Montmartre quarter, Paris France the year 1900, center of Bohemian culture. William Graham is the most handsome and sought after dancer, singer and courtesan in Paris, and the star of The Moulin Rouge as he is known as The Glittering Ravenstag. His adoptive father is the owner and proprietor, Jacques Crawford, who does everything he can to ensure the success of the theater, but when they fall on hard times, the wealthy and evil Duke of Verger Farmer, Mason Verger, tries to manipulate them all to save the theater, but at what cost? Meanwhile, a case of mistaken identity brings Will face to face with Hannibal Lecter, a penniless writer who falls madly in love with him immediately. When Hannibal agrees to write a “Spectacular” musical for the new theater and he and Will subsequently begin a torrid affair, they put everything at risk. Will love, truth, beauty and freedom prevail, or will they lose everything to Mason Verger and his evil plans?





	Come what may

**Author's Note:**

> **We'd like to thank the mods who put this event - Murder Husbands BigBang together, and our talented artist, @gleamingandwholeanddeadly , who did all the artwork for this fic. And least but definitely not least, thank you to anyone who reads this! We hope you enjoy it!**

 

  
The year was 1900. _The Glittering Ravenstag_ – that was how everyone in the Montmartre Quarter of Paris France knew William Graham. He was the star of the Moulin Rouge, a cabaret dancer, actor and courtesan, the most beautiful, handsome and sought-after young man in the city. With his spiraling, silken chocolate curls, pristine ivory skin, lush but stubborn ruby pout and striking, arresting eyes as blue as the ocean, his beauty defied gender and sexuality. He moved with the elegance of a swan, all long lean lines of flexible muscle, the perfect blend of masculine strength and feminine grace. But for all his beauty, he hid a darkness within that only a scant few really knew of.

 His benefactor was none other than the owner of the Moulin Rouge, Mr Jacques Crawford. The man had taken him in as a small boy, rescuing him from a horrible fate in a dirty, impoverished rural French orphanage. He didn't even remember his real parents, and his earliest memories in the orphanage were of being sad, scared, lonely and hungry. But when Jacques adopted him, everything changed. Jacques and his wife Bella treated him as their own son, loved and cared for him deeply, and made sure he wanted for nothing.

 He'd started dancing as a youngster, and since it gave him so much pleasure, Jacques encouraged it. Some of the performers took them under their wing; one of his very best and most trusted friends was an artist named Jimmy Price. He did set design, painting, decorating and provided quite a bit of comic relief when needed, and William considered him his dearest confidant.

 As William grew, it became clear he was gifted with incredible abilities in dance and song, in addition to an almost mystical ability to persuade and influence people. It wasn't quite what one would call “charm”; in fact on his own, William was a rather quiet lad. But he had an unusual way of being able to pick up signals from people that others would miss, see into people's desires and use that to give them what they wanted. Jacques noticed this and as Will became a young man, knew it would benefit him greatly. And so when he became of age, Jacques made him part of his show.

 Almost overnight, he was a star. With Jimmy's help, he created the costume and character of the Glittering Ravenstag – a majestic and magical creature that could see into the hearts of men and women, predict their deepest, darkest desires, and lead them on a sensual dance into their own mystical becoming. His costume was extravagant, all black feathers, satin and gold, with a large headdress of antlers nestled in his silken ringlets.

 ***

 It was in 1899 that Hannibal Lecter came to Paris. He sat in his room, reflecting on his time in Florence. Ah, but it had been good. There was certainly a lot of inspiration to be had there. Muse was strong, but due to a bit of trouble, he found himself needing to leave. Beyond that, love hardly existed there.  At least, not for him. Not for an heir to a fortune that he wouldn't inherit until he turned twenty-five years of age. What could he offer someone now? Nothing yet. Save for love.Which is why he'd come to Paris, the city of love in the summer of love. The world with it's bohemian revolution moved him. Musicians, painters, and writers were its children.

True, Hannibal was penniless, but he was rich in love, even if his Uncle Robertus has told him it was ridiculous, that he would better spend his time studying to be…a doctor perhaps. Anything - but _not_ a poet. And not in such a place of sin.

Hannibal disregarded that. He didn't care if it meant losing the claim to a Countship and the Lecter fortune, for what were riches, if he had no one to share them with?  He would write about the things he sought: Truth, beauty, freedom…and that which he believed in above all things -- love.

Tonight he sat there, contemplating that very thing, when he heard a commotion and on his very balcony. True, he was new to the area but it seemed preposterous and rude that someone would able themselves onto his private space. It stirred something inside of him. Something that was always there alongside the love he carried. A darkness that howled inside. One that had nearly escaped to wrap it's talons around his Uncle's throat and tear.

He'd composed himself.

At this noise, he gripped a letter opener close by, snarling to himself as he listened. A famous Lithuanian writer was all but needed for a place named Moulin Rouge. A cancan dancer called the Glittering Ravenstag might hear his poetry and be astounded. Perhaps then Hannibal could work towards his goal. Yes, he needed to slip inside, become a fixture there.

Now to find this writer and get him out of the way so that a path would be set for Hannibal Lecter. He fully intended earning the position based on his own merit, of course, but sometimes fate needed a little nudge. Despite his uncle's voice resounding in his head. For Mischa. Yes, this was for his sister first and foremost and he would not disappoint her. Most thought Hannibal to be timid. It was a mask he wore well.

***

“The Duke of Monroth is out there in the audience tonight, Will, and he’s asked for a private meeting with you after the show,” Jacques Crawford said, standing behind Will’s dressing room chair as the beautiful young man was fussed over by ladies with powder puffs and combs. They arranged the sparkling antlers on his head just so, making certain it was on securely, applying blushing to the apples of his already rosy cheeks.

Will sighed. “Is he really so rich he can help us?” he asked with a sarcastic glance in the mirror. He was so torn. The Moulin Rouge had accrued so much debt, it’s fate was in peril, and he deeply loved his adoptive father and the misfits, freaks, and bohemians that comprised his beloved family there. While he detested the idea of “whoring” himself out to this wealthy influential man, he would do anything and everything to help his loved ones.

“He’s the sole heir of the Verger fortune. The wealthiest man in all of France. He’s heard of you and seen you in the papers, told me he wants to invest in the Moulin Rouge, but it all hinges on meeting you tonight after the show. You’ve got this, Will. I know you do. You hook him, I sink him,” the big man said, grinning broadly at the brunet.

Will nodded. “I will, Jacques.”

Meanwhile, both Mason Verger and Hannibal Lecter had made their way out into the crowd, then to their proper seating places. Ironically, they weren’t too far apart, and while Hannibal conversed with other spectators to blend in, Mason spoke with Cordell.

“Now, you get me an meeting with the Ravenstag, and I want it _private_ , Cordell,” the Duke said grinning with wild eyes. He shook his head as though he were bothered, then began to cackle quietly. “Won’t he make a _prized_ little show pig? Can’t you just see him?”

Cordell nodded, and Mason clapped his hands together, lacing his fingers with glee. “Ohhh I can too! Yes, you go secure it, and I’ll wait here.”

The music echoed throughout the theater, a tornado of bright colors, lights, loud song...a celebration. But just as it reached its climax, the lights went out and a single spotlight shone in the center of the stage.

One voice rang out acapella; a beautiful, perfectly clear masculine tenor sweeping through the room like curling clouds of smoke, deep and sensual, flexible and warm. From above, suspended on a swing, he came down...The Glittering Ravenstag.

Long, muscular legs clad in black, opaque, silken tights, jet-black feathers covering his torso and groin, a _v_ of bare flesh, a perfectly smooth chest visible, freckles and glitter sprinkled across peachy skin.

Long black satin gloves covered him from fingertip to bicep, and as he descended, his head dipped low and hands covering his face, he looked up. The light shone in his face, and gasps could be heard scattered around the audience- eyes of striking blue sapphire surrounded in dark lashes looked over them, ringlets of spiraled dark chocolate framing a shockingly beautiful face. The centerpiece was an elaborate, black and gold set of antlers atop his head, makeup around his eyes accentuating their color. Will’s red lips parted and he held out a note as the dancers below gathered round him and took him from the swing, and they proceeded to finish their number, dancing and carrying him on their shoulders.

“Where is he?” Will asked Jacques at the end, looking in the guest boxes for anyone especially posh.

“He’s there, but don’t worry, Will, just come back to your room. The men are taking him there at once. You’ve got to get back and get ready,” he said, hurrying him off stage. He looked around for Jimmy, who normally would’ve taken him to his room to get him ready, but he was nowhere to be found. “I’ll take you myself, come along.”

Once there, Will took the elaborate headpiece off, retaining the other accouterments of his costume, and waited for this man who was to save them.

Mason had waited for the dancer he knew to be named Will, to come to him. Perhaps via song or dance. It didn’t happen and he was enraged. “Find him!” he yelled at Cordell, who rushed off, Mason heading out for a cigar. Hannibal however, played things a bit more calmly.

He bumped into a dandy looking fellow who couldn’t stop grinning.

“You must be…. _Him_! I’m Jimmy Price, at your service! Oh, you big strapping, dashing thing! Come with me, we don’t want to keep the Ravenstag waiting in all his glimmer, shimmer, and razzmatazz.”

Hannibal, in keeping with his new facade, a Lithuanian writer, he let his natural confidence shine through, but perhaps with a bit of hesitation. _Shyness_. “It’s an honor, Mister Price.”

“No, just Jimmy honey…please! Now come, come!”

Naturally he assumed Jimmy saw him as the writer. He wasn’t at all aware that he was mistaken for the Duke Verger. Nonetheless, he walked with Jimmy, to the room where the beautiful, Glittering Ravenstag awaited him.

Jimmy opened the door, grinning like a mischievous church mouse. He curtseyed. “The guest of honor has arrived!”

Will turned around dramatically, lashes lowered, and looked up demurely. “Oh…” he started, red lips forming the shape of the word perfectly. It was time for him to put on the act of the shy but sexy courtesan, but this man took his breath away. Tall and handsome, plush, full lips, sharp, exotic cheekbones, deepset eyes like jewels made of precious amber, skin a deep olive...he was incredible. Slowly Will walked forward and smiled, peeling off his gloves and extending his hand with a smile. “Pleased to meet you. Won’t you come in and make yourself comfortable?”

Hannibal, or Roman Fell, as he was going to be known now, may not have shown any hint of expression on his face other than a polite smile, but inwardly he was in awe. Surely he’d seen Will on stage, but up close was even more jolting. Yes, muse indeed. A work of art. His eyes narrowed warmly, and he took the courtesan’s hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. “The pleasure, I assure you, is entirely mine,” he crooned, then removed his coat to hand to Jimmy who hung it up, then excused himself. When they were alone, he crossed on leg over the other. “It is my hope that you will like what I have to say,” he said, thinking that Will thought him a Lithuanian writer, and not at all the Duke.

“Well, I’m very certain I will. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you,” Will gushed in a soft voice. He poured two drinks, handing one to the man he presumed was the Duke, and gently nudged his knee, raising a brow to suggest he sit on his bed. “Why don’t you come over here? Best seat in the house, if I may say so,” Will purred. It was strange. Looking at this man, he could see he was hiding something, but what, he couldn’t tell. There was a wall there, and shadows surrounding it. Normally he could see people’s darkest most secret desires and use them to manipulate, but with the Duke, there was nothing. He sincerely hoped for all of their sakes he’d be able to pull this off - seduce and charm the man enough to get him to invest.

Hannibal smiled, preening at the praise, even if he knew it was just lies dripping off of Will’s lips. He didn’t know him in the least. Either way, he walked over slowly, gracefully, and sat down. “I do not doubt that for an instant, Will. May I call you that?” he asked, crossing one leg over the other, head canted. “I suppose it would be fitting, hm? To call you by your first name before we begin.”

Will quirked a brow playfully. “Aren’t you an old fashioned gentleman. Of course, of course. Well, my dearest _Duke,_ I must say I’m rather fond of that title and I believe I’d like to call you that. It’s a little kinky, I think, Duke. Now then, would you like to finish your drink before we, mmmm, get started?” Will dipped his chin and looked under his lashes at the very handsome man. As much as he detested this dog-and-pony show, the exotic man was indeed rather easy on the eyes. It gave him pause that he couldn’t get any sort of read on him at all, but he was extraordinarily handsome, which did make this more pleasant. Still there was something else bothering him, but he shoved it aside for now.  

Duke. Interesting. Hannibal knew right away that he Will had him mistaken. The unfortunate thing, was that he could not, now, read the words he’d intended, but that was fine. This might turn out to be something better. Either way he was curious as to where this would lead. He took a few more drinks, and set the glass side. He reached out at the look and ran the tip of his finger along Will’s jaw. “Get started? Hm, yes. That we should indeed. Where shall I begin? Any preference?”

If not to read then what? It was clear that Will was being quite provocative.

Will leaned into Hannibal and ran a hand up his thigh. “I should think so, how about you? Mine would certainly be it is better to _receive_ than to give, if you don’t mind my being so...candid,” he smiled and bit his lip, pearly white teeth against a plump red lower lip.  

Hannibal felt a low tug in his groin, right to his plump balls. His eyes went to that alluring lip, to the teeth that worried it. He wanted to take it into his own mouth, pierce it just enough to draw out a bit of crimson, so that he might know him by taste, as well as scent. He ran his thumb over Will’s lip, his eyes hooded. If he’s a Duke then he best act the part and they do not have the same demeanor as a shy Lithuanian writer would. At least not the demeanor Roman Fell had. So many names and titles in one night. “Hm, I would point out that there is no real need to choose when both ways can be enjoyed.”

One eyebrow arched at the words, Will’s eyes traced the curve of the other man’s lips even as his own quirked up. He darted the tip of his tongue out to seductively flick over Hannibal’s thumb. “Very true, and how very bohemian of you. Apropos of everything,” he said, his voice drawing out huskily. He took Hannibal’s hand and had begun to slip it inside his robe at the chest when there was a knock and he stopped.

“Will? Will, The Duke is here with me. Will?” Jacques voice came through the door.

Will’s hand dropped from Hannibal’s and his mouth parted as wide as his eyes in question at him. “One moment, Jacques, please, I’m quite indecent. Only a moment!”

“Who _ARE_ you?” he whispered frantically, rising.

“Hannibal Lecter. A writer. I came here to see if you might require my services, but we can speak of that as soon as the real Duke is gone. I’ll… I’ll keep to the shadows, unseen, until he is,” Hannibal smiled, deciding no one else really knew of his ‘Roman Fell’ identity. He’d let that one go. No point in continuing a facade. With a look he took Will’s hand and kissed it. “Until then, Will. It’s been quite the pleasure.”

With that he slipped out the back, around the corner on the balcony, waiting, just as promised.

Frustrated, flustered, unexpectedly aroused at the kiss, Will blushed a deep red - a genuine, authentic blush - and gathered himself, quickly looking in the mirror before opening the door with a flourish. “Why of course, I’ve been waiting. I just had to freshen up a bit after the performance. Please come in,” he smiled.

Jacques squinted suspiciously at Will but took the Duke by the arm, thrusting him out front. “Yes well, of course. Will, this is The Duke of Monroth, Mason Verger. Duke, this is none other that our illustrious Glittering Ravenstag, William Graham,” he said in introduction.

Will bowed, cheeks still rosy from Hannibal’s kiss on his hand, and extended his own to the Duke. “It’s quite a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir,” he said with a smile.

“William. Oh but it is a pleasure. I think we are going to have some _good_ , funny times,” Mason began, grinning with a crazed looking in his eyes. He took Will’s hand and kissed, just where Hannibal had done so, then let go, clasping his hands together. “You can leave Jacques. Let us get...acquainted, won’t you?”

The very moment Will locked eyes with Mason, he was overwhelmed by the darkness. Spidery coils of ink oil smeared across his mind, nothing but evil, no light, nothing redeemable, no sad past, just pure unadulterated sadistic intent behind his eyes. Will swallowed hard, the forts assembling as fast as he could build them, brick walls ascending from the ground up and protecting him from this man. It was entirely, wholly, horrifically unfortunate that this was the man Jacques had to deal with to save the Moulin Rouge, and Will hoped there was a way around it. But until he knew, he’d need to be polite and keep up the charade. Meanwhile, his thoughts drifted to that handsome stranger...Hannibal? Who _was_ he?

When Jacques left, Mason shut the door, and locked it, walking around Will in a circle. He whistled. “Well, well. Just look at you. No fat on _you_ . Well, maybe a little in some places. But _those_ are places where it should be,” he said with a wink as he looked at Will’s ass, then came back around.

Will laughed even as his stomach clenched in nausea at this disgusting animal. That’s precisely what he was, too. Careful to not let his facade fall, he arched his back slightly as he thought of how he could entertain this man enough to get rid of him, or fake an emergency or do anything...he’d _heard_ him lock the door, which left him feeling even more unsettled. He stared at Mason, trying to predict how far he’d have to take this to free himself from his web. “Only the places where it belongs, and I assure you, not in the places it doesn’t. Why, haven’t you been paying close attention, my dear Duke?” he asked, lifting one long, lean, leg to set in on a nearby chair. Arching his foot, he flexed his calf through the sheer silk of his tights and smiled innocently.

Mason eyed Will hungrily, licking his lips. He gripped his face roughly, his other hand pulling him close by his waist. “Oh I have, darling I _have,_ and papa likes what he's been seeing,” he said with a cackle. He leaned in and kissed Will once, biting hard at his lower lip, wanting to cause a little pain before he let go. “You wanted to meet me. Good decision. But don't think I am without… _manners_. I made sure to close the door so no one can bother us.”

Will averted his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact with him and keep smiling. “How very wise of you. But where are _my_ manners? Please, may I get you a drink?” he asked, attempting to extricate himself from the close proximity while still maintaining the allure of seduction. He ran a long finger down the front of Mason’s chest and pressed him backwards as he swayed to the bar and poured himself a drinked, looking over his shoulder with an arched brow.

“A martini,” Mason said, then walked over close to Will. He slapped his ass, then added, “and make it _dirty_.”

The Duke then went to lounge on Will’s bed, making himself at home. He had no idea that just outside on the balcony was an enraged Hannibal Lecter, trying to contain the beast inside. At least for now.

Will poured the gin and vermouth, adding a splash of olive juice and a little something extra- just enough to inebriate the man quicker so he wouldn’t harm him and he could get rid of him for the night. He walked to the bed, letting his hips sway as he did. Handing the glass to Mason with a sweet smile, Will raised his glass to toast him.

“To freedom, beauty, truth and love, yes?” Will said with a cocked brow.

Mason took the glass and raised it. “Yes,” he crooned, licking his lips, “To all that.” He took a big sip of it, then another, and one more before setting it down and patting his lap. “But what’s all that without a little bit of pain, hm?”

He suddenly pressed his index finger to his chin contemplatively. “I have an idea. Why don’t you come sit on my lap? Tell me more about your... fitness routine. Mm! It must be grueling to earn you all of those muscles. You really are a _fine_ specimen, darling Will.”

Will took a long sip, having added more water than liquor to his own to keep his wits about him as well as encourage the Duke to keep up, and took a seat as invited on Mason’s lap. Crossing his legs coyly once there, he turned towards him, lashes lowered in mock shyness, affecting a blush. “Well I must amend my previous claim. _This_ is the best seat in the house, hmm?” He grinned, and took another long sip, playfully guiding Mason’s glass back to his mouth with one fingertip. “Drinnk…for mee…hmm?” he prodded, placing the grotesque man’s free hand around his waist to encourage him.

“Oh it is,” Mason agreed, over the glass, in reference to his lap being the best seat. He palmed Will’s thigh, giving it a harsh, likely bruising squeeze, or so he hoped. Yes a beautiful bloom across his skin would be perfect and would serve to brand him, at least until something more permanent could be arranged. What a prized piggy! Leaning forward as Will faced him, he drank of the martini finally, and let his repositioned hand trail down to the dancer’s ass, slapping it hard. He drank the whole glass, and almost a couple of minutes later, started to feel woozy. “You make a good martini, Will. I would say you missed your calling, but you bewitched me earlier so I guess you can write your own… ticket,” he cackled, the room getting a little foggy.

Will took the empty glass from his hand and looped both arms heavily about the man’s shoulders in an attempt to get him to lay back on the bed. “Oh, Duke...or perhaps I ought to call you _Papa_ , is that what you’d like?” he cooed, batting his lashes and shifting his ass further to trap the disgusting man. The potion was working just perfectly, he observed as Mason’s eyes grew quite blurred.

“Both are fine, just fine, but I admit the latter from those lips of yours has me at attention!” Mason crooned, leaning in kiss Will once, eyeing him. He was slurring his words, heart rate slowing to a soothing rhythm and lay back he did, bringing Will on top of him. His hands gripped the dancer’s ample posterior, giving it a weak squeeze. “I am tired. The drink was strong my dear. Let me rest a moment and then I’ll show you what _Papa_ can do…”  

***

Mason fell asleep, a grin on his face, and Hannibal immediately reentered, all but snarling at the sight of the vile man under Will. He relaxed, and turned to him, licking his lips. “Impressive, Will. What a cunning boy you are. A nice touch with the sedative you added to his drink. I take you find him as distasteful as I do?”

Will turned to Hannibal, eyes alight. “Disgusting and foul, indeed. But, you, _Hannibal_ , and I, have much to discuss, don’t we? Ahh where should we start…” Will said with a furrowed brow and lopsided smile, not unfriendly after seeing the kind of man the Duke was. Shoving the arms still around him off, he rose to go sit on the chaise and gestured for Hannibal to join.

Hannibal followed, a faint grin on his face, and sat next to Will. “Yes, it would seem as though we do. Tell me what dosage did you give him?” It was to find out how much they had. He knew a little about medicine, just from having read about it in his spare time when he wasn’t writing. “As for where we should start, I will let you decide that, Will.”

Will smirked. “Ammonium bromide. I’ve dabbled in a bit of medicine and chemistry you might say. One of my friends is skilled in it and has shared some secrets and tips. Jimmy...he’s in our troupe.” The courtesan licked his lips sensuously, letting his eyes roam recklessly over this handsome _Hannibal._ “So if you’re not really a Duke, who exactly are you and why are you in my bedchambers?” he smiled.

“Cunning, just as I said,” Hannibal smiled, not unaware of how Will was looking at him. “I am a writer in fact. A poet. I’m here to see if I might write for you.” He licked his lips in return, stepping closer but not invasively so. “The Duke is swine, and he will treat you as one of his prized show pigs. I do hope you’re not too taken with him.”

A joking wink from the writer to the dancer. “Should I leave your bedchambers or will you agree to hear some of my work?”

Will was charmed, unexpectedly so. The man was handsome to say the least, and Will was certainly used to bring lavished with compliments and flattery. But he wasn’t used to being made to blush _authentically_ like this. The man had a deep, honeyed accent and an enchanting lisp that was quite lovely. “Certainly, I’d love to hear your work...please uhhh…go ahead,” he said, nodding and waving his hand for Hannibal to carry on.

Hannibal was equally charmed, and very pleased he wasn’t asked to leave the room. He smiled, and wet his lips. He didn’t have any paper to read from, he didn’t need it, it was on his tongue the moment he laid eyes on Will. “Very well.” His memory palace was vast. When he was finished, he looked into cerulean hues and waited to hear his thoughts.

_“Memory gives moments immortality,_

_And mine is filled only with you._

_My beloved eternal, quickening the blood in my veins,_

_Setting fire to me, body and mind._

_The quiet of the stream enveloping,_

_Gently feeding with the marrow of imagination from it’s lustful breast,_

_The beguiling artistry of your eyes has imprisoned me willingly,_

_and spirited away every drop of my ardor._

_I am bound to you, your willing slave,_

_For through the gilded, nascent glory, I see past the veil,_

_And find beauty in your darkness.”_

Delicate lips parted in surprise, his blue eyes fluttering as he felt something stir within him. As he looked into Hannibal’s own intense gaze, he felt something, dark and shadowy, hot tendrils of smoke that spilled from those lushly curved lips and reached into his chest, wrapping around his beating heart and embedding like the barbs from a rose. Jacques had often told Will as a boy he had too much imagination, felt things too deeply, and they’d parlayed his gift into his current occupation, using it to interpret those desires of rich clients and give them what they wanted until their pockets emptied and the gold fell loose upon the floor of the illustrious Moulin Rouge. But Hannibal was different. Hannibal allowed him to see nothing and instead, Will himself felt penetrated, invaded and seen through the words the man spoke.

Moments passed, the silence deafening between them, only Will’s heavy breathing punctuating the air. Licking his lips deliberately, he stirred from his reverie.

“I hardly know how to say this, Hannibal. Y-y-you’re incredibly gifted. I must insist you help us write our new endeavor. It’s to be a musical play.”

The way Will responded to Hannibal was all that he needed, especially since the poem was about him. He could tell before the words even left the dancer’s luscious lips that he liked his writings and it filled his heart with warmth. All he wanted, or well, the main thing, was to love and be loved, see and be seen. Stepping closer, he cupped Will’s jaw unabashedly, peering into the oceans of his eyes. “Thank you. I am honored.”

Will’s heart beat faster at the writer’s touch, which burned sweetly on his skin. He inhaled deeply and the scent of the woods filled his nostrils, like some long forgotten, wild memory, one full of the promise of freedom. “Write something up, and we will talk about it tomorrow night, brainstorm, perhaps...hmmm…” he paused and looked behind him at the door and then past at the window. “Sneak back in and see me? We’ll have some food and drink and talk about the story,” the beauty grinned, pearly white teeth flashing.

“No one could keep me from you,” Hannibal assured, smiling as he held Will’s beautiful face. He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting, his heart utterly brimming with love and affection. This was it. The love he’d been seeking. The opportunity for grandeur and romance. Yes, he would indeed be returning. “Tomorrow night then. I will count the moments until I am honored with seeing you again.”

Will smiled and heard a commotion outside his door, and ushered Hannibal to the window again. “I look forward to it. Now, hurry...Go, and I will see you tomorrow night,” he said, planting a kiss on his lips.

Hannibal licked his lips, savoring Will’s taste, and nodded. “Tomorrow, Mylimasis.”

He left then, a song in his heart.

A soft knock on the door was heard; Will opened it a crack and it was Jacques.

“Well?” he whispered anxiously.

Will looked back and rolled his eyes, stepping into the hall. “It seems the Duke cannot hold his liquor at all. Take him away, will you? I’d like to sleep in my room alone,” Will insisted, and Jacques nodded, waving a couple of men over. They carried the heavily sedated Mason out of Will’s chambers and back to his own, and Will went to sleep that night, dreaming of the mysterious Hannibal and his exotic charms.

***

Will descended from the ceiling yet again, spotlight on him, singing in a clear, breathtaking baritone. He wore his Glittering Ravenstag costume, head bowed as he came down, and when he looked up, the smokey, glimmering makeup around his blue eyes created such a stunning contrast, it was hypnotic to behold. Shimmering baubles and feathers adorned him as he swung suspended from the swing and then hopped off, dancing across the stage with an athletic, powerful grace. He was the star of the show, and as Jacques looked on proudly, he wondered if Hannibal was in the audience watching him tonight.

That was when Hannibal leaned out of the shadows, enough to let the light catch his face so that Will could indeed see that he was there, watching. He was entranced, entirely taken by each move, look, and ruffle of feather. Will was breathtaking, but that was no surprise. Hannibal Lecter was falling in love, and not just with the idea of it, but with him. Will Graham. He felt inspiration strike him, right through the heart, just as though another arrow was residing there next to the one that Cupid had left. Smiling, he smoothed down his dress shirt, his eyes not leaving the beauty on stage.

Will saw him, his face lighting up the moment he did, and the smile caused the crowd to erupt in swooning applause. All he cared about though was getting back to his room and seeing Hannibal again. He felt oddly giddy.

Moving backstage, he pushed through the other performers until he spotted his friend Jimmy. He quickly took him by the shoulder. “Price! I need you to do me a favor! Find Hannibal and sneak him to the Elephant again, would you?” Will asked with a demure smirk.

Jimmy clapped, not making noise though, and grinned cheekily. “Oh! You _know_ I will, honey. Trust Jimmy on that,” he said, then rubbed Will’s arm before almost skipping off. He knew.

***

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door, Hannibal waiting outside the door. The security was...conveniently predisposed.

Will checked himself in the mirror one more time before opening it. He was clad in a red velvet robe, sash lazily askew and one shoulder bare, along with thigh high black lace stockings beneath. Dipping his lashes, he smiled shyly. “Well, I was hoping it might be you after all, my dear _writer_. Did you like the show, Hannibal Lecter?” he asked, quickly ushering him in and securing the door behind him.

Hannibal let his eyes trailed down and back up, landing on those striking, ethereal blues of Will’s. He was inspired indeed and in a few formidable ways. Reaching out, he slipped his fingers into soft curls, gently pulling Will closer. “I did, I confess, and very much in fact,” he whispered, licking his lips as his free hand rested on the beauty’s waist. “You are a work of art, rare and beautiful. A reminder of the gods of old.”

The dancer blushed a rosy pink and led Hannibal to a plush chaise lounge, where he sat him down with a gentle press of his hand to his chest. Will sat as well, reclining back against the man, draped over like an elegant, priceless silk scarf. “Tell me, Hannibal, did my performance inspire your story? I want to hear it... _please_?”

“It did,” Hannibal answered, wrapping his arms around Will, suppressing a growl at just how alluring he was. It was more than looks. It was everything about Will Graham. Hannibal was consumed by him, and had been, right away. “And I will tell you now,” he said, and began to regail the beauty with his vision.

Will was enthralled and enchanted with the story of two star crossed lovers being torn apart by an evil maharajah; a handsome young Indian courtesan is courted by a penniless sitar player, but is betrothed to marry the wealthy maharajah, who is bitterly jealous, and strives to tear them apart. In the end, the maharajah is gored to death when the Glittering Ravenstag, played by Will, transforms from man into stag and kills him. The brunet listened, utterly spellbound by the story. “Jacques will _love_ it! And... _I_ love it, Hannibal,” he gushed, turning in his arms to look up at the man adoringly.

There, sitting on that chaise, seeing Will’s reaction, it was like a fairy tale; Hannibal pulled Will closer, all but on his lap. He smiled, utterly enamored and traced his jawline with his fingertip. “And I love you, Will,” he confessed. It was soon, but he knew right away. They were fated, and no one would tear them apart. Not Verger, not Jacques. No one. Leaning forward, he kissed him, feather-lite. “I am also pleased you find it to your liking, especially since it is born as a result of your artistry.”

Will gazed deeply into Hannibal’s eyes, utterly taken with the other man. He’d never felt like this before, and yet, here it was, blossoming behind the bars of his ribcage like a wild flower and clambering like a beast. He ran a finger tip down the center of the man’s chest and bit his lip coyly. “I think...I...I…”

It was at that very moment there was a raucous banging on the door, once again interrupting the starry eyed lovers. Will furrowed his brow and huffed. “Who is it?” He called out.

“Oh, now, my pretty thing you,” Mason called out, as Hannibal quickly stood up. As soon as he was standing the door opened. “You shouldn’t need to a--”

Mason trailed off, his eyes narrowing when he saw Hannibal standing next to Will. Will who was dressed quite provocatively. He clasped his hands together, rather abruptly, looking at Hannibal, whose eyes were narrowed just a fraction, hardly noticeable, and then back at his intended. “ _Who_ is this! I must say, this paints a…” he paused, cackling angrily, “disturbing picture.”

Will pulled his robe together and cinched the belt tighter, smiling and approaching the wealthy but disgusting man with a flourish of his pale hand. “The Duke! How nice of you to come by, and just in the nick of time, too. I would love to introduce you to one of our remarkable new talents, our star writer, Hannibal Lecter! Mr Lecter, The Duke Mason Verger, heir of the Verger Meat fortune and a very strong potential investor, yes?” he said with a hopeful glint in his bright blue eyes. Reaching to grasp Mason’s hands, he pulled him deeper in the room and sat him at the plush chair in front of his vanity, turning him to face the room. “Hannibal was just describing it all to me, and it’s completely enchanting - mesmerizing - simply…”

At that moment, Jacques, Jimmy, Brian, and a slew of others came through the door, barreling through like a veritable circus, everyone chattering at once, Jacques bellowing over the top. “Silence! William! Will! What exactly is going on here?” he demanded, eyes narrowed at the stranger behind him.

Will grinned, waving them in as well. “This is just simply too convenient. I was _just_ introducing the handsome Duke here to Hannibal Lecter, the new writer for The Moulin Rouge. He’s penned the musical play which is going to catapult us to fame and fortune unlike anything beyond your wildest dreams. You’re just in time to hear the story, and I guarantee once you do, you’ll be as hypnotized as I am,” he gushed enthusiastically.

Inwardly, Hannibal imagined how he might prepare Mason. The pig wrangler was doing some inspiring of his own. A feast had presented itself. Ah, but soon enough. None of this was apparent as he and Mason looked at each other. Hannibal smiled at him, then everyone else, and back to the Duke.

“It is a pleasure, Mr Verger, and everyone,” Hannibal said, smoothly, extending his hand, which Mason took.

Once again he smiled, then laughed, more like a bark. “You’ll have to forgive me, Mr Lecter. Papa never taught me how to share. I thought I might have to feed you to my pigs for a minute!” he  exclaimed seriously as Hannibal canted his head to the side, amused. Mason cackled, shaking Hannibal’s hand with far too much speed and gusto.

“You’re a writer? Well isn’t _that_ just wonderful! Will and I would love to hear your story. Or well I know _I_ would, and the rest of us, since my darling has heard it already!”

Will interrupted, knowing he could sell the story to all present convincingly. “Allow me, and Hannibal, please correct me if I get any of the details wrong, no? Very good.” Walking around theatrically, Will waved his arms. “Close your eyes and imagine India, a beautiful palace, covered in the most expensive, alluring, brightly colored silks of purple and red and gold. The curtains part, and there, on a gilded sofa carried by strong, strapping, bare chested men is yours truly. My character? A virginal courtesan from a royal palace, betrothed to be married to the most wealthy and powerful man in all the land, the Maharajah.” Will danced around and played with Mason’s scarves, smiling at him and moving on to Jacques as he continued.

“But not all is at it seems, for a penniless sitar player finds his way to our hero’s attention, working in the palace one day, and captures his fancy and his heart. They fall madly in love, but must carry on their wild affair in secret, lest anyone find out, as this courtesan is supposed to marry the Maharajah! And so, the poet writes a secret song for the lovers to sing to one another. No matter where they are, or what happens, they can sing out this song and know the other is listening and there with them in spirit.”

Will walked to Hannibal now, wanting to reach out and touch him but resisting in front of his attentive audience.

“How does it end?” Jacques demanded anxiously.

Everyone watched Hannibal with baited breath, clearly utterly invested in the tale.

Hannibal smiles at Will, then looks at around the room, his gaze landing on Mason. “The Courtesan chooses the sitar player. Love prevails, as it should.”

Mason narrowed his eyes at Hannibal, but when he looked to see everyone smiling and practically cheering, ego took over. “Bravo, Hannibal, Bravo! Yes! Since my dear Will loves the story, and everyone else clearly agrees. You have my investment!”

Before Hannibal could say anything, the Duke walked over to Will and cupped his face. Briefly, he thought of how lovely his skin would look pinkened from a good slapping. Later. After they marry. He leaned in and kissed him hard. “Stick with me. I’ll give you the world!”

Jacques stared with cautious optimism at Mason. “So you’ll invest, truly?” he asked, looking around at his employees, their wide, hopeful eyes all fixed on the gaudily dressed, obscenely rich man.

“Yes, yes. I said I would and I _will_ ,” Mason said, waving a dismissive hand. He smiled at Will, then turned to Jacques. “But it ends if you and Will don’t fulfill your end of the, uh, the deal. I want him and I want him all to myself! Will shall be mine.”

Hannibal swallowed, raging inside. There was no way he would allow that. Not since he knew that he and Will were conjoined. There was a cord between their hearts and no one would break it.  Jimmy and the other employees left, leaving the four men alone to talk.

 **“** With your agreement then, I’ll have papers drawn up at once, Duke,” Jacques said with a smile.

Mason looked from Will to Jacques, smiling. “Yes. I think we should go to your office. We need to have a… a chat. Oh and it will be exhilarating!”

The wealthy man lit up like a Christmas Tree then turned and roughly pulled Will to him, which made Hannibal want to stab Mason in the temple with the nearby ice pick.

“I’ll see you very soon. Change your clothes. I want you to wear something even sexier, darling,” Mason said to Will, then kissed him again.

He let go and walked out of the room, taking Jacques with him.

Jacques and Mason made their way to his private office to hammer out an official contract- Mason agreed to pay an advance of enough money to totally renovate the Moulin Rouge, in effect buying the deed to the building. Included in the deal was a stipulation that Jacques gave Mason his son’s hand in marriage. Even as Jacques signed, he felt sick and uneasy, getting an awful feeling from the man, as though maybe the rumor were true that he was a perverse sadist. He hoped they were far fetched rumors, nothing more.

In Will’s boudoir, he and Hannibal worked on the play, but were after a while too distracted with one another, smitten with young lust that had yet to be consummated.

“Hannibal...you know what I do for a living. How can you be interested in a courtesan? I won’t change for you...this is my life. I have a gift,” Will said as they lay on his chaise lounge, the moon shining down through the window.

Hannibal snarled subtly. It wasn’t something he wanted to think about but of course he wasn’t one to push things by the wayside either. His mind ran on several trains of thought at once. One was always for his own amusement. This was not that.

“I see potential in you, Will, just as anyone sees in their beloved. However, I do not intended on asking you to stop doing what you love,” Hannibal explained, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked back and forth slowly.  

“And now I’m promised to The Duke?” Will posited with a cocked brow.

Hannibal was composed. “You are, but you have not wed yet.”

There was an ominous tinge there, and it wasn’t aimed at Will Graham.

Will looked up at the older man through dark, thick lashes and smiled shyly. “That’s true, I’m not, yet. Why, do you mean to change that, my poor, penniless _sitar player_?” he asked playfully, leaning forward and kissing an area of exposed skin at the base of his neck, just above a tuft of hair at the top of his collar.

“I might yet,” Hannibal murmured, slipping his fingers into Will’s soft tresses, the other hand pressing against the dip of the beauty’s back. He licked his lips. There was hardly going to be a wedding. Not between Will and the Duke. Hannibal had his ways. He could make things happen and beyond that, Mason was vile. A fly in the afterbirth of their newborn love.

The poet smiled, devilish and dapper, and then kissed Will, scraping his teeth over Will’s plump lower lip. “Or do you wish to be wed to the Duke, my exquisite courtesan?”

Will recoiled slightly, beneath his skin, at the thought of being with the disgusting man, Mason Verger. “Not at all, I want to fly away from all this, somehow do something that amounts to something, not simply waste away being used by...well...my father loves me, but I sometimes thinks he doesn’t truly know me, it care how all of this wears on me. It’s all about how I bring people in, how I read them and grant their desires and bring in money.” Will ran long pale fingers along the fabric of Hannibal’s humble waist coat. “You have the power to change people, inspire them with your words. If I can be your mouthpiece, we could do that together.”

Hannibal’s eyes trailed over Will’s stunning features, their faces close. He let his hand rest on his waist and swallowed. Jacques was another problem that needed tended. It was ludicrous that a father would treat his son in such a way. Rude really. What was to be done about that? Hannibal Lecter had a few ideas. For now, he smiled. “You are far more than a mouthpiece, Mylimasis. You are art, striking, and beautiful. You too inspire many, and you’ve captured my heart,” he explained, then kissed Will slowly, slipping his tongue inside, letting them dance together. “I would do that with you, yes, and Mason… well, perhaps there is a solution for that as well. I can help you. If you ask me to.”

Will sighed into the kiss, arms draped around him now, enjoying the way this man made him feel. What was this? He felt finally, at long last seen, understood, known. In fact he felt like he was finally beginning to know himself. “Write a fabulous musical. Spectacular, Spectacular. Maybe if we are able to get out from under all the debt, Jacques will let me go pursue my own life,” he said wistfully. Truth be told, he wasn’t even thinking about Mason Verger - he was the means to an end.

“Certainly, Will. There are ways in which we can escape this labyrinth. It has its vines and thorns that weave through it but the pen is mightier than the sword one might use to tame it. I will guide us from this and together we will emerge from the chrysalis, new and whole,” Hannibal explained, his voice rich, even if he was not. It dripped from his tongue like a jar of overturned honey just waiting to licked. With that, he smiled, and stroked Will’s cheek, gazing adoringly at the man he loved - his courtesan.

Will rose elegantly from the chaise lounge and walked to the door, ensuring it was locked before turning back to Hannibal slowly. “We’re alone. Jacques and the Duke are busy...negotiating. Spend the night…?” he asked, sauntering up coyly to the man and loosened the belt of his red velvet robe, tugging it free to reveal a perfectly smooth, peachy chest. A light patch of hair trailed down into the waistband of silk short shorts, and he was barefoot. Will’s chocolate curls hung loosely around his ears and rosy cheeks.

Hannibal reached his hands up to Will’s waist, under the opened robe, lightly gripping. He leaned forward and kissed his belly. He couldn’t wait to mark him in some way, perhaps right there, make him his. Amber eyes flicked up to meet sea blue and he smiled. “I would be honored, my beauty,” he answered, then encouraged Will to seat himself atop his lap. “I want to know every part of you, Will.”

“You look at me differently than the others do. Not as a commodity to be bought. Well, you couldn’t afford me anyway, but the way your eyes...glow...it doesn’t even matter. It’s as though I’m being warmed from the inside out,” Will said with a deep sigh of longing, straddling Hannibal’s lap. He pulled his arms back and pulled the velvet robe from his shoulders, letting it fall, and then draped his arms over his shoulders, leaning forward to kiss him.

“You are stunning, yes, but your mind,” Hannibal began, his fingers running up and down Will’s back, down to the black thigh high stockings. He kissed him back, slowly, savoring each part of his mouth, his tongue, teeth clacking gently. The poet pulled back enough to speak over his lips. “Your mind is even more beautiful. It is a shame that others do not see it as I do. I see you, yes, Mylimasis.”

Perhaps it was a good they didn’t see Will the way he did. Very good in fact.

Will began rolling his hips into Hannibal’s hands; he loved how big they felt, how possessive, cupping and squeezing his flesh through the thin fabric. His cock was hard through the silk of the underwear, and the sweetly seductive words Hannibal spoke in his lisping accent, wound their way over his heart tightly. “No one else ever has before. You seem to be able to understand me...I don’t know how…”

“There are ways past the forts you use to hide,” Hannibal answered, his tone deep, breathy, as he kissed Will’s lips. He slid his hands around and kneaded the dancer’s posterior, growling at how perfectly molded they were. Hannibal pressed his trapped erection up into the swell of it, biting down that long, elegant neck. “I will devour you tonight, if you’ll allow me to. I want to let you see me in turn.”

“That one would be clever enough to find their way over- that’s truly the impressive part,” Will huffed out, his taut belly undulating as he writhed in his lap. “And I feel like a feast, myself…”

Hannibal smiled, faint, but charming, and worked the buttons of his own shirt, slipping it off to reveal his furry, broad, muscular chest. It heaved with anticipation and arousal. Leaning in once more, he sucked on Will’s neck, wanting to mark him, but he didn’t. Not now. One day he would though. He undid his belt, removed it, then moved to the waistband of Will’s undergarment. “May I?”

Will smirked playfully, keeping his hands on Hannibal's strong shoulders, and nodded, biting his lip. “ _Please_ …?”

Hannibal smiled at that, and began undoing the garter clips, his fingers deft and skilled as he looked at Will’s thighs, then up to his eyes. “You are a vision.”

The brunet flexed his thick, muscular thighs to stand up then, rising so Hannibal could fully disrobe him. Arching his back gracefully he stretched, showing off a bit as he smiled down at Hannibal.

Hannibal looked, and with laser-like focus. He stood, and helped Will out of the remainder of his attire - what little of it there was - and removed his own shoes and socks, then his trousers, also making a show of it. He knew he had a well put together body, as he was always careful what he put into it. The poet took Will’s hand and kissed it, then lead him to the bed. “Please, let me taste you.”

The handsome young courtesan considered himself incredibly lucky as he watched with hooded lust as Hannibal undressed. Every new bit of bronzed flesh was stunning, lean muscle moving beneath his skin, a sexy dusting of dark fur in just the right places. Will reclined on the bed, legs spread invitingly, and smiled up at him. “Please do…”

Like a jungle cat, Hannibal crawled elegantly onto the bed, his cock hard and leaking. He grinned, seductively, and started kissing Will’s calves, behind the knee, then finally to the meat of his thighs. He inhaled deeply, groaning and made his way to the courtesan's balls, running his tongue over the plump sack there, taking each one into his mouth. Decadent.

 **“** Ohhhhhh, oh Hannibal,” Will crooned, his back arching off the bed, toes curling at the pleasure. The wet heat of the older man’s mouth felt absolutely divine, like being enveloped in velvet delight. He flung his arms above his head in surrender, eyes closed as dark lashes fanned over pale cheeks.

It was exactly the reaction he’d wanted, and continued to covet. Hannibal groaned, then licked up Will’s shaft, sucking gently kisses along the way and took the tip of his cock into his mouth. He formed a perfect seal, his eyes cut to watch the beauty; he didn’t want to miss a sound or nuance. Up and down he bobbed, slowly, gathering saliva from his mouth to slick up his finger. Just enough to rub around Will’s rim. He’d need more lubricant to penetrate him, naturally.

Will bit his lip and reached down to tangle his fingers in Hannibal’s hair. “Mon dieu, that feels divine, ahhh,” he sighed. “There’s...mmmmmh…There’s oil in the table, right over there,” he said, gesturing to the bureau beneath an ornate mirror.

Hannibal was so hard he could bust concrete. Or it felt that way. First, he moved up Will’s body to kiss him, long, slow, and passionate, then he got up to get the oil. “Do not move,” he flirted, and then procured it, bringing it back to the bed. Before he applied the oil, he pushed the brunet’s legs up towards his chest and lowered himself, starting to dine on the hot, fevered sweetness between his cheeks. A feast for his senses.

Knees up near his shoulders, Will moaned in melodious, keening noises of pleasure, deeply at first and ever higher the nearer his twitching little hole came to being breached. “ _Please_ , Hannibal,” he begged, beginning to leak pre come on his chest from his hard cock.

“I will require more of you after this night. I’m afraid I am becoming quite gluttonous,” Hannibal rasped, and then moved back to slick up his cock and his fingers. He laid on his side and rolled Will with him, hitching his leg high over his hip. He wanted to watch his face as he pressed the first finger inside his awaiting hole. As he did, he snarled at the tightness, and kissed his lover’s lips, feeding from his mouth.

Will panted and moaned against Hannibal’s mouth, sharp teeth catching his lip as he raised his thick thigh higher. Blue eyes widened and focused on amber when he felt the other man’s thick finger enter him and pupils dilated, darkening fully as a deeper more ragged groan slipped from his lips. “ohhhhhhhhhhhhh….”

“Will. My lovely courtesan,” Hannibal crooned, then worked in and out of Will’s hole, deftly. He continued kissing him, over and over, breathing him in, and once he felt he was open, he inserted a second, scissoring and watching to gauge how his beauty reacted.

After a few minutes of this, Hannibal stopped when he felt his beloved was ready to take him. He withdrew his fingers and rolled over on top of him, gazing down. “Are you ready then, my love?”

Will raised his legs as high as he could, spreading himself open invitingly to the stunningly handsome man above. “Yes...take me, Hannibal. I’m ready,” he said, licking his lips, feet arched, his own cock bobbing in eager agreement against his flat belly.

Hannibal slicked up his cock and smiled, eyeing Will. He took his leg and kissed the arch of Will’s foot before pressing his cock head against his lover’s twitching hole. “With this, you are mine, yes? May our bodies conjoin as our hearts have done. We shall never be untethered or taken apart. Not even divine intervention can do so, my beauty.”

The poet was a wonderful perpetrator of prose, even in times such as that. He gently pushed inside, holding his composure so he wouldn’t meet his end too quickly; he was a master, and gazed down at Will, utterly entranced and pleasure riddled.

The words Hannibal spoke were musical to Will’s ears, romantic and full of beauty in a way he’d certainly heard others speak before. Promises and honey, sweet nothings and flowers; the difference was the fire in his eyes, and the more impassioned the man became, the more the scales fell away and he began to see more and more into the soul of Hannibal. Past darkness there was fire and blood, smoke and bone, death and beauty. It was mysterious and he wanted more. These were glimpses, tastes, and it brought a hunger out in Will that he hadn’t experienced before.

The burn was significant, but sapphire eyes remained open and focused on beryl as he was penetrated, fingernails bearing down into flesh as he felt him go deeper still. “More,” he whispered harshly, almost a dare.

That singular word told Hannibal a lot as well. He wasn’t a doctor of the mind but amidst his studies in the literary arts, he’d also read up on that very subject, as well as anatomy and the culinary. What else is there to do when one is without means, aside from feed the mind, as well as the body?

To answer that challenge, Hannibal growled lustfully at the nails in his skin and the way Will was looking at him. He pulled out and plunged back in, beginning to quicken his pace little by little. Strong arms glistened with sweat, coating tawny skin in a fine mist as firm muscles flexed underneath it. The poet worked up to a frenetic pace, large, furry balls thudding wetly against the heat of his lover’s groin, groans, and grunts resonating from his chest and throat. Leaning down, he kissed Will hotly, tongues moving in time with the rhythm of their love. It was like a live beating drum, pounding out each note of ecstasy that their bodies conveyed.

Will used the muscles of his own body to massage every inch of Hannibal’s length, alternately tensing and relaxing as he rocked his hips, heels dug into the small of his back encouraging his movements. He writhed wildly under the man, his berry lips red and swollen under the assault of kisses and bites, and he fed from the man’s mouth greedily. One free hand roamed down through thick, soft chest hair as his voice grew more ragged from his moans. “So good, so, so good…”

Hannibal hissed pleasurably, the snake had captured the mongoose. He was drove in and out, grunting as he swiveled his hips, tapping relentlessly against Will’s prostate. Sitting back on his knees, he pushed the dancer’s legs up, and open, holding under his thigh with one hand as the other started jerking his cock. “You are my paradise, Will. Just as Achilles longed for Patroclus, we will conquer Troy together, and on our own,” he grunted. It had taken divine intervention to bring them down, but that would not happen to them.

Oh but Hannibal was close; he wouldn’t dare come yet. Not until Will had.

That huge hand around his cock was all it took to drive him over the edge. Will threw his head back, chocolate curls spilling against the pillow, and came with a sharp cry, holding onto Hannibal’s shoulders for dear life as fingertips clawed through sweat-slicked skin. “Haaaaaaaaanibal…!”

That was music to Hannibal’s ears. He worked his hips, his ass muscles flexing as he thrusted, again and again, the bed moving as he lowered himself on top of Will to kiss those sounds from his mouth. The constriction on his cock was immense and he finally allowed himself to come. Hot and thick he filled the beauty’s hole, spend oozing out as he fucked him through the after shock.

“Will…Mm...”

The Courtesan slowly lowered his legs, rolling his hips, not wanting to lose the connection between them. “Ahh...Je t'aime de tout mon coeur, Hannibal,” Will whispered, holding both sides of the man’s face in his hands as he looked in his eyes. “I love you with all my heart.”

“Et je t'aime, ma belle bien-aimée,” Hannibal replied, letting Will know he spoke French as well. His heart was beating faster as he gazed at Will, running his fingers through his sweat slicked curls. After a soft kiss, he smiled. “I love you now, and always. It is my promise to you, my vow, and I always keep my promises, Will.”

Will looked up at Hannibal, doe-eyed and smitten. It was a lot all at once, and he wondered if this dashing poet with the beautiful words really meant it, but his empathy told him he did. “I think I even believe you really mean that, my handsome lover,” he replied, ruby lips curled into a smile.

  *******

The lovers carefully concealed their affair as the days and weeks passed, using every excuse of spending so much time together for practicing the songs and lines of the play and music. The Duke was displeased, but Will’s insistence that he get everything perfect, that they were only working very very hard to ensure complete success, seemed to placate him.

There was a fly in the ointment however, one that Will was trying to conceal as well. Severe headaches that were becoming worse and worse, strange auditory and visual hallucinations, and sleep disturbances. Will had always been a restless sleeper, but now he was waking up on the balcony many night, staring up at the stars, no memory of walking outside. He was trying to hide it from Hannibal so he wouldn’t worry, but one night when Hannibal dared to sleep over, he’d done it again.

Hannibal woke up and noticed that Will wasn’t present in bed with him. He thought it peculiar, however not entirely, as he’d noticed a change in his lover’s scent and demeanor. Carefully, he got out of bed and walked out onto the balcony, looking at his courtesan standing in one spot.

“Will?” he whispered, circling him to try to analyze as best he could.  

His eyes were already opened, though glassy and unfocused as in a dream. He staggered slightly, looking past Hannibal and then stirring as he woke, gradually gaining consciousness. “H-h-hannibal? Oh no,” he muttered, hanging his head as he realized he’d been sleep walking again. “I’m so sorry...I’ve done this once or twice. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said apologetically.

Hannibal cupped Will’s cheek, leaning in. He smelled him, then smiled. “It is quite alright. Never apologize for that, Mylimasis. You’re experiencing sleep disruptions and likely due to stress. Nothing more.”

The poet wrapped his arms around Will’s waist, and lead him back inside. He tucked him into bed then got in with him, hooking his arms around him. “You will be alright. I assure you. I want what is best for you, and will insure it.”

Will shook his head, curls bouncing as he did. He didn’t feel well, something felt very off. “I think I might be unwell. I keep seeing things, hearing things I’m not sure are there. Perhaps I should see a doctor,” he suggested, rubbing the space between his eyes as he wriggled between the sheets and looked up at the elder man.

“If that is your wish, then of course, my love,” Hannibal said with a smile, and then took Will’s hand to kiss it. He kissed his brow next, noticing a fever, then his lips before resting his head against the pillow. “I am not a doctor. I do, however, know of one. If you feel you need to go, I’d prefer it if we go to him, hm?”

“You can take me, I trust you,” Will answered. “And Jacques is busy these days too. He won’t mind I don’t think, so long as I’m ready to perform opening night.”

“Perhaps we leave him in the dark for a bit, Will. I want to make sure you are able to go back to work. Your health is of a paramount importance,” Hannibal urged, then kissed Will’s lips once more, strumming his fingers through his hair. “I love you and will take you tomorrow.”

Will smiled softly and closed his eyes then, resting his head on Hannibal’s chest. He trusted Hannibal. He’d go to the doctor and everything would be alright for opening night. Nothing could go wrong with love on his side.

***

Will was never fond of needles, but he was also a grown man, and bore his anxiety quietly when Doctor Sutcliffe took the sample of blood from him. They’d checked his temperature and discovered he did have a fever. The doctor gave him a small bottle of pills and went to speak privately with Hannibal.

“I’ve seen a few rare cases like this, but we don’t know what causes it, only that we think it’s some sort of virus,” Doctor Sutcliffe said to the other man quietly. “Keep an eye on his symptoms, don’t tax him too greatly, let him take the Laudanum when the headaches get bad,” he advised.

Hannibal nodded. “It is as I feared then,” he said. Then placed his hand on the Doctor’s shoulder, giving him a look.

Sutcliffe drew a breath as though he was uncertain, then walked out of the room as Hannibal followed. They went into his office, leaving Will to wait in the exam room and get dressed. The poet gestured and sat down as the Doctor picked up his phone. He called none other than Jacques Crawford.

Doctor Sutcliffe explained everything, just as he had to Hannibal.

 _“Please keep this discreet. He’s the star of my show and I’d rather not have it getting out that he’s ill. I’d prefer if the details were kept away from him as well. He can be easily distracted and has quite a vivid imagination. it would be best if he knew less right now.”_ Jacques said thoughtfully, which was more than clear in his tone even over the phone.

 _“Of course, I’m in your employ and shall be as discreet as ever, Monsieur Crawford. Good day,”_ he said, and then hung up.

Hannibal canted his head to the side, looking at the doctor. “How did he take the news of his beloved star, I mean... _son_?”

Sutcliffe pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows. “As would anyone whose child was lining their coffers in gold. Keep it quiet and discreet, and don’t tell the boy. Apparently he must have quite the imagination, and he wants him focused. What a loving _parent_.”

“Every family loves differently,” Hannibal pointed out, but he agreed. Jacques was an obstacle, though a very entertaining one for the moment. He was curious how everything would transpire. Standing up, he had a completely calm and almost happy expression, even if it wasn’t over. “I am going to see to it that Will is taken care of, but for now I need you to do as Jacques has requested. I will call on you again. You will return to Will and tell him it is merely stress related, fatigue from his dancing. Mention nothing of our conversation or the one between you and Monsieur Crawford, hm?”

“Of course, Hannibal. That won’t be any trouble. I’ll be seeing you again. Good day,” he said, bowing and leaving, Hannibal bidding him farewell.

Hannibal watched as the Doctor headed out and to Will’s room; he went into the waiting area for his beloved. When Will walked out, he smiled, walking over to him.

“Will,” Hannibal began, right at his side. “I can only hope you’ve received good tidings?”

“I don’t know what to make of what he said. Just that I’m over tired from my rehearsal schedule, and he gave me something for pain,” Will sighed, not exactly happy with what he’d been told, but accepting it nonetheless. “Perhaps I just need more meat in my diet.”

“That can be arranged,” Hannibal said, not being perverse, but thinking of ways in which he could certainly get meat into Will’s diet. Pig specifically. _Long_ pig. He leaned in and kissed Will chastely on the temple. “Come let us go to my home. You need rest right now more than anything. I would enjoy preparing a meal for you.”

“We could say I’m helping with songwriting, should Jacques or the Duke ask, yes?” He asked with an eager smile. It sounded so inviting to have a night away from the Moulin Rouge, even if it were simply in the poor writer’s small apartment. As long as they were together, he would be happy as could be.

“Of course, yes,” Hannibal nodded, smiling back at Will. He offered his arm to his lover, walking him out of the office. While he didn’t have a lot of money, he was a master at turning a simple, inexpensive dish into something nearly lavish. “Shall we?”

Will didn’t care about the luxuries anymore when he was with Hannibal. Sure he enjoyed nice things, but Hannibal loved him for so much more than just his appearance or sex, and it showed. He treated him like a priceless jewel, a treasure, he cared about his thoughts and desires and mind, his heart. He felt at home in a palace of their own making no matter where he was with his beloved, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. Above all, Will never knew himself the way he did with Hannibal. The noise constantly in his head when he was with others, or performing, all fell away with the man he craved.

Placing a hand in Hannibal’s, he smiled. “With pleasure.”

***

The musical was progressing fast and furious, at a vigorous pace that matched the reconstruction and refurbishing of the brand new theater being built with the Duke’s money. Absolutely no expense was spared - a new stage, new seating, carpets, floors, backstage area, dressing rooms, lighting, sound, curtains, costumes - everything designed from the bottom up. Elaborate, lavish backgrounds were constructed, and Hannibal and Will worked night and day tirelessly with the cast and musicians, practicing, making sure every piece was perfect, rehearsing every move.

Though Will tried his hardest to hide it, he was growing increasingly ill. He was sleepwalking nearly every night, waking drenched in sweat, shivering, wrapped in towels, soaked to the skin. He was missing cues, seeing and hearing things that weren’t there, taking too many aspirin for his migraines, exhausted almost constantly. He was losing weight and using more makeup to conceal the circles beneath his blue eyes. It was gradual, but those closest to him noticed.

A few of the actors had gone to Jacques concerned, and he’d dismissed them, saying he was taking good care of the boy. They had no reason to question him; Jacques was the boss, and more than that, Jacques was his father. A father could only want what was best for his own child, right?

One night in particular, Will had to take off. He was resting, and the rest of the cast was on stage practicing while Mason sat downstairs watching the others perform. One of the performers, a brawny man named Matthew Brown was there. He was mostly there for muscle, though he could dance, but he liked being in the back, and helping with the props. What he didn’t like was Mason was so smitten with Will.

Matt had to admit, Will was a sight to behold, he might even have gone for him, in another life, but here, Mason had the power. Power was what Matthew craved. In a partner and otherwise.

Walking over, he smiled at Mason, both men with wild eyes of their own.

“Is there something you wanted, boy?” Mason asked, hands in his pockets.

“You could say that. I wanted to see if you’re...aware of something,” Matthew said, his voice a soft, hushed whisper. A contrast to the lines and hardness of his body.

Mason chuckled, clasping his hands together. He leaned forward, touching Matt’s shoulder. “Well! I just _love_ a secret. Do tell, do tell!”

Matthew didn’t shy away from the touch. “I wonder if you’ve noticed little love birds flying around the nest you’ve made here. This betrayal… this kiss from Judas?”

“Oh yes, he betrayed Jesus Christ, and nobody betrays the _Riz!_ ” Mason said enthusiastically. Then his face took on a serious expression as he looked at Matt. “Wait, who do you mean? Speak clearly. I’d hate to lose your services here, but I could use you for my pigs! Either way I win, just like papa taught me.”

He laughed again, looking at Matthew expectantly, rubbing his bicep, then down his chest.

Matt leaned into it, smiling. “Our shining star. Our peacock and his friend, or should I say, _penniless poet_? The show… it does have parallels.”

Mason narrowed his eyes as it sunk in. Was he being played for a fool? He was the Verger Heir! What nerve!

***

Will was exhausted. They’d been rehearsing for days on end with few breaks, but as construction was winding to an end, and the opening date grew nearer and nearer, there was no time to spare anymore. Stolen moments here and there were all he had with Hannibal, but he made the most of them, daring whatever nights he could spare to sneak off to his little ramshackle apartment for endless lovemaking or spiriting off behind the velvet curtains for furtive makeout sessions. No one noticed, and Will’s friends did all they could to cover for the couple.

It was the final rehearsal before opening night, and all the performers were gathered. Tempers and tensions were running high; Jacques was standing to the side, directing the action as Will sang, Hannibal seated at the piano playing and scribbling notes here and there, monitoring Will as Brian Zeller eyed Jimmy Price nervously. The Duke Verger sat front and center observing them with narrowed eyes.  Matthew Brown was near, having helped with the set, and then moved to his backup dancer position. He looked from Will, to Hannibal, and finally Mason, who gave him a knowing look.

Will was pale, a fine sheen of sweat covering his face, the moisture causing wet curls to cling to his forehead and neck. He felt faint even as he stood there, summoning all the strength he had to stand. Everything depended on this, on this show’s success, and he couldn’t let Jacques or anyone realize how poorly he felt. As Price and Zeller bickered briefly over the placement of a bee painting on the backdrop, he popped a handful of aspirin dry, swallowing them and hoping they’d  help his fever go down.

“QUIET ON STAGE! The lovers’ secret song, Come What May!” Jacques bellowed, causing Jimmy to jump - as he so often did when Jacques shouted. Honestly, why did he have to do that? Be that as it may, he too took his place.

_“Never knew, I could feel like this, like I’d never seen the sky before…”_

Will’s voice came out soft but beautiful, glassy blue eyes drifting to Hannibal at the piano. Hannibal looked up, amber eyes burning with love as he met those impeccable sea blues. Behind Will, he saw an avalanche of water cascading, falling all around the man, dark and ominous, but it fell around him, not over, as though stopping just outside an invisible bubble surrounding him.

“Stop, stop!” Mason suddenly interjected loudly, clapping his hands together once to demand attention, as well as respect. Hannibal snarled, just faintly as he ceased playing the piano. To anyone else he’d seem serene, even if he wasn’t.

The Duke walked up to Will, touching his jaw, gently, but his eyes told another story. Anger and jealousy was wafting off of him in sickening waves.

“This will _not_ do! This is my story. I’ve changed my mind. Yes, yes!” Mason chuckled, leaning in to kiss Will once, as Hannibal clenched his fist out of sight. “Why should the Courtesan marry a penniless...anything! No, he will end up with the Maharaja! That is much more sensible. Who would turn down such an opportunity for such...nonsense! Don’t you agree, darling?”

Will’s jaw dropped in shock, his lip trembling. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, and Zeller pushed in ahead of him, quite excitable as he gestured wildly.

“But my dear Duke, tomorrow is opening night, it’s simply impossible, everything’s been planned, practiced, ready, it’s written already, you can’t be serious!”

Will shot a terrified look at the dark-haired man and softly shook his head. Mason stepped closer as Hannibal rose to his feet, walking that way as well. He would not allow any harm to befall his beauty.

Mason looked at Hannibal, challenging him, almost daring him to speak. Hannibal didn’t, not yet.

“ _I_ can’t be serious? Are you forgetting who has paid for this precious theater? I am a _Verger_!” Mason said, anger in his tone. He moved away from Will and walked right up to Hannibal. “Rewrite it at once! It’s not hard really, you just put what makes the most sense. Which isn’t the penniless fool.”

Hannibal closed his  eyes just a fraction of a second, lips parted, then opened them once more. “Perhaps it would be best if we all spoke with cooler heads later.”

Mason laughed, sarcastically, walking to go sit back down. “No, no, no! It will be done how I say or there will be no play!”

Zeller was just about to protest when Will held his hand up. “Stop! Just stop. We’re being entirely too rude to the dear Duke. It _is his_ play and we will end it exactly as he has asked. Now then, why don’t you all practice it that way, while I accompany our exhausted Master Verger to dinner. Wouldn’t you like that, _Sir_?” Will purred, sashaying up to the Duke’s chair until their knees touched. He leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.

Hannibal walked off stage, making it seem as though he were going to go get started on the rewrite when really, he just wanted to observe from the sidelines. He knew why Will was doing as he was but it didn’t make it any easier. Hatred and jealousy simmered under his skin as Mason pulled Will onto his lap.

“Why yes I would,” Mason said, coy as he maneuvered Will to face him on his lap, his hands gripping his ass, kneading it. “Tonight, I want you to come to my bed. It’s about time we consummated this, my darling, and oh it will be _fantastic!_ ”

Will swallowed the bile down his throat, shoving down the nausea that rose and applying a smile to his face. “So we shall, and so it will,” he said, and rose, taking his hand to lead him away for lunch.

***

At Hannibal’s apartment, Will laid in his bed, hand to the back of his forehead. “I don’t want to sleep with him, but I _have_ to, you know this,” he said in a weak voice, still sweating profusely from the fever that wouldn’t go away.

Hannibal looked at Will, fleeing his nostrils for a whiff. He crossed his arms, his expression cold. “Do you then? There are no other options, hm?”

Will’s eyes were closed as he panted weakly. “Hannibal, what else can we do?” He finally managed to sit up, albeit very weakly. “I love no other, only you. My very soul belongs to you, you know that,” he whispered pleadingly.

The poet softened then, his hand going to Will’s jaw, cupping it, feeling his temperature. He let his other go around his lover’s back, holding him up. “I love you, Mylimasis. It is why I simply cannot bear the thought of you with that _pig_. We can leave tonight, run away and never return here. Will you come or no?”

Either way, Hannibal knew Will needed medical attention and soon, but not before he rectified the situation with the Duke. One way or another.

“I have another idea, Hannibal,” Will answered.

***

Will had invited Mason to his bedroom - the Elephant Suite a top the Moulin Rouge - under the cloak of seducing him into “consummating” their relationship. Little would the Duke know, they weren’t alone.

Will was not doing well; his fever raged on, but he powdered his sweating brow as best he could and prayed he could get through this disgusting rouse long enough to get Mason incapacitated. He hoped perhaps there was something they could give him so he could still put on a good performance for everyone.

Hannibal waited until Mason was distracted, then hid where he had the very first time, ready. Mason grinned, walking over to Will, flirting and pulling him close. He was about to start removing his clothing when he felt the prick of a needle puncture his neck.

“What in--” Mason trailed off, and fell into Hannibal’s arms. The writer looked at Will.

“Apologies, Mylimasis. Perhaps that was impulsively timed but I could not bear another moment with him touching you,” Hannibal said, sniffing and looking over his courtesan.

Will smiled at his lover weakly, and moved to touch Hannibal’s cheek. “I couldn’t either, my beloved. Besides, the show must go on tomorrow as planned. And I really must lay down,” he said, cheeks pale as a cold sweat broke out over his face. He did just that, getting into bed and pulling up the covers, not bothering to change clothes.

Hannibal nodded, smiling at that. He walked over and tucked Will in, kissing his lips, then his brow. It was clear to him that he would need to get help for him and soon. For now, he’d do what he could since Mason would be out for a good while. He had plans for him too. “May I get you some water and medicine perhaps, Will?”

“Yes, thank you. We should … work on Mason now while we can, shouldn’t we? No one is going to visit me tonight….not while they expect him here.” Will wiped his forehead and loosened his robe, getting comfortable now that he was no longer under the eye of the vile man.

Hannibal assisted Will in removing the robe, then set it aside. He procured the water, medicine, and a cool cloth. “I will take care of the Duke. I would very much like for you to rest, please, my love,” he insisted, then got him back down in the bed. Once Will took the medicine and drank some water, he kissed his lips again, and placed the cool cloth over his brow. “Sleep. I will be here when you wake, I assure you.”

Will took the water gratefully and drank as much as he could manage, smiling softly at his beloved. “Thank you my Hannibal. You take such good care of me. I’m just going to rest my eyes a short while,” he insisted, though he could feel the strength in his body fading as slumber and his illness overpowered him quickly.

“And I shall do so always,” Hannibal whispered, then refilled Will’s water, setting it beside his bed. He got in next to him and held him for a few minutes, waiting until he finally went to sleep. The writer snapped his fingers next to Will’s ear, just to make sure he was out, and when he was, he got up and set about moving Mason.

***

Opening night was upon them. Will wasn’t nervous, truth be told, he was far too weak to be nervous, but he did all he could to allow none of that to show as he let the ladies apply blush to his cheeks and powder his face. Behind him another adjusted the gold and white feathers on his back, and he steadied his breathing with thoughts of the lyrics and choreography, as well as his beloved, Hannibal, who would be seated in the audience.

It was time, and he could hear the opening notes begin as he was ushered to the stage. The play began, all the lines Hannibal had so skillfully composed brought to life by the actors and singers. When it was time for him to appear, he descended a gilded staircase, a vision of beauty, his voice clear and strong, and no one would have been the wiser to how he felt. Will gave every single ounce of energy and passion he had to the show, to the stage, singing and performing as perfectly as he ever had before, with such raw power the air was electric in the theater.

They reached the final number - the lover’s secret song - the climax, _Come What May_. It was line for line between Hannibal and Will alone, their song for each other, and as Will sang the notes out with his duet partner, he looked out over the audience, knowing his beloved was there.

_“I will love you until my dying day…”_

The audience leapt to their feet, thunderous applause filling the building, screams, hooting, deafening roars of adulation, and as gold ticker tape fell from the ceiling, Will finally gave out.

The blinds fell closed on the corners of his vision, and he collapsed, covered in sweat and shivering.

Only those dancers nearest him saw, and soon screams and shouts began to spill from the stage as they tried to form a circle around him, clearing space.

“A doctor! A doctor! Is there a doctor? Anyone please! Help!” shouted Zeller frantically from the edge of the stage at the audience.

Hannibal had been moved by the performance, tears in his eyes as he’d stood and applauded. It was glorious, that is, until Will fell. He rushed to the stage, pushing past others. Somewhat rude perhaps but there was no time for niceties now. The poet could smell the infection, the fever, and he hoisted Will into his arms. “I have a Doctor, near, one I can get him to at once,” he explained, and before anyone could say another word, he rushed Will to his private dressing room where Dr. Sutcliffe stood waiting. This had been anticipated, naturally. “Hold on, Mylimasis. I love you.”

Will began to shake harder as a seizure took hold of his body then, and his hallucinations rendered him utterly incoherent. “What...I don’t know...Where am I?.. _Hannibal_? I love you...”

Hannibal let the doctor do his work, and he held his hand. “I am here, Will. It appears from what I’ve read that you have had a seizure but you will be alright. You’re in your dressing room. I love you too. I will be right here beside you.”

Will blinked up at him, eyes wet and red with his illness, disoriented. “I trust you,” he whispered.

Doctor Sutcliffe nodded his agreement over Hannibal’s guess, and he injected Will with a few different medicines, monitoring his stats. He worked quietly, save for a few explanations here and there. “He has encephalitis,” he said, “However, there are new drugs, which I’ve administered, strong antibiotics that will improve his chances.”

Hannibal nodded. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said, then turned back to Will, touched at his beauty’s words. He kissed his lips softly, stroking his damp hair. “See? You are on your way to recovery, Will. I will help you there every step of the way.”  

“Encephalitis? Oh,” he said quietly. It was then that Jacques rushed in, having been stopped by the crowd. Everyone was asking how Will was, and Jacques himself hadn’t even been able to get backstage and see to him.

“Encephalitis, you say?” Jacques asked, trying to sound as though it was the first time he knew of it. “Any lasting damage, uh, Doctor?”

Will looked over at Jacques, and even in his fever induced haze, read his adopted father like an open book. Had Jacques somehow already known? His body language indicated that, and Will felt a stab of pain in his heart, but said nothing.

Hannibal saw that, and he turned to snarl at Jacques, just barely there. The doctor cleared his throat.

“That’s right, and no, there should be no lasting damage, but he needs to rest,” the doctor said, firmly.

“And so he shall,” Hannibal stated, and dared Jacques to argue.

Jacques looked frustrated at the doctor, nearly furious. “But _Doctor,_ I have a show to put on. I have hundreds of people expecting a three month run of this play. It was an astounding success tonight, but the Duke is expecting a _return_ on his _investment,_ and I absolutely cannot have Will out of commission! There has to be something you can do!” he bellowed angrily, not caring if Will heard, and speaking about him as if he were not even there.

Will was in and out of consciousness, but he did hear, and he turned his face away from them. He’d never been truly wanted or loved by anyone other than what he could do for them. It turned out even to be true of his own father. A single tear rolled down his cheek as the fever took over completely and he fell unconscious.

“Will!” Hannibal exclaimed and the doctor kept Hannibal back when he got up to rush to his love’s side. He could only hope that Will knew he loved him and not for what he could do.

Hannibal turned to Jacques, calm once more. He took the ice pick from the bucket in the dressing room and stabbed him in the temple. Which made the doctor gasp. Hannibal didn’t care. “Will is not your toy. He is not a puppet in your show.”

Jacques’ eyes were wide in shock as he stared at Hannibal and dropped to the floor instantly. Choking and struggling to form words that would not come, the language portion of his brain clearly disconnected, the man simply laid there, alive but unable to do anything, his mouth wide open. Blood dripped from his ear in a thin trickle as he stared blankly.

Doctor Sutcliffe rushed over and pulled the ice pick from Jacques’ temple, impulsively, and looked horrified at Hannibal, who smiled.

“Technically, you killed him,” Hannibal said, calmly.

“I...I…”

“Doctor, I need to know if you plan on taking this to the authorities,” Hannibal said, stepping closer, slowly.

“No. I won’t. I assure you of that.”

“Then that is good news for us all. Now, finish taking care of Will, please,” Hannibal insisted, which the doctor then did. He would dispose of the good doctor once Will was stable, for now, he wrapped Jacques’ head in a towel, to keep the blood from continuing to spill, then put him in the pantry.

***

Finally, at long last under Sutcliffe’s _proper_ care, Will grew better quicker than anyone could’ve hoped. There was also the matter of what to do about the play and the theater itself. It seemed both the owners, the wealthy Duke Mason Verger, as well as Will’s father Jacques Crawford, had gone missing the opening night of the play, and it was quite a scandal. No trace of either man could be found, and Bella was not well enough herself to take control of the facilities. With no one around to assist, and Will still healing, they asked the dashing and obviously well educated, though poor, talented writer Hannibal Lecter, to assist with the business.

Hannibal had long since disposed of Jacques, Sutcliffe was proving to be useful but eventually an end to be tied. For now, he made sure that someone watched over Bella, as he didn’t detest her, but put time in watching over Will, and handling what he could of the business. When it seemed as though Will was well, the doctor disappeared along with the other two missing men, and Hannibal decided it was time to let his beloved really see him.

“You look positively radiant, Will. You’re feeling better I trust?” Hannibal asked, preparing to take him to his apartment for a surprise.

Will’s bright blue eyes and rosy cheeks were once again the picture of beauty and youth, and his dark curls shook slightly as he nodded, tugging a velvet coat around his shoulders. “Yes, I am, so much better, Hannibal. Thank you, love,” he said gratefully.

Hannibal beamed at that, and leaned in to kiss those perfect lips softly. “I am pleased to hear it,” he said, pulling on his jacket as well. “Then I would like very much to take you to my apartment. I would like to cook for you, among other things.”

The courtesan was eager to do so and slipped his arm into his beloved’s easily. “That’s perfect. Let’s go,” he said, standing on tiptoes to place a soft kiss on a tanned cheekbone.

With a nod and a charming smile, Hannibal lead Will out of his place. It didn’t take long and they were at the writer’s apartment. He unlocked the door and lead his love inside. “Before I begin preparing our supper, I would very much enjoy showing you what I have for you downstairs, in the basement.”

“Of course,” Will answered, hands in the pockets of his fitted velvet breeches. “What is it, Hannibal?”

“Some things are better shown than spoken,” Hannibal insisted, placing a hand on the small of Will’s back. He plucked a key from his trouser pocket and unlocked the door, leading Will downstairs.

Inside, sat none other than Mason Verger stop a throne. Hannibal had adorned it with flowers and thorns, and the Duke was bound to the chair. Hannibal walked over and put a mask on his face, sending a drug into his system, quick acting, which made Mason begin cackling.

Will’s blue eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. He never knew if he’d see the cruel, awful man again, and while he’d hoped not to, this was certainly by far the most unusual way he could have expected to find him. He could see the mirth from Mason was artificial, and it appeared he was drugged in some way.

“Is he here like this...for me? Has he been here the whole time?” Will asked with a soft smile, brow furrowed.

“Yes,” Hannibal answered, to both questions. He was happy to see Will’s reaction. It made him beam with pride because with that, he was revealing himself. There had been unsolved murders in sounders of three as well, no one knew it was the ‘penniless poet’.

“I’m hungry!” Mason said, childlike as he looked at Hannibal and Will. “Oh, there you are my courtesan. I’ve missed you.”

Hannibal walked over and freed Mason’s hands, handing him a knife, his face was calm and upbeat as he went to stand back next to Will. Looking over his shoulder at Mason, he said, “Eat your nose then.”

“Oh! Yes, Yes!! I’ll eat my nose!” Mason cackled, and cut the tip of his nose off. He stuffed it into his mouth and chewed, continuing to cut other strips of his face off. “I’m _full_ of myself!”

Will’s eyebrows went up, but he said nothing and did nothing to stop him. This was someone who surely deserved what was happening, though it was shocking to see him do it to himself this way. A man who exploited the vulnerable in the worst of ways, a sadist. There was a perfect eloquent horror and serendipity to the scene. “And what, Hannibal, are we to do with him now?” he asked, not quite fully laughing, though the grin was there, the chuckle behind his pearly, sharp white teeth and twinkling eyes.

Hannibal looked at Mason again, then back to Will. He felt love and arousal. His beloved did in fact have the penchant for murder in him. Potential. With time, he would help to draw it out further. “Observe or participate?” he asked simply, placing his hand on Will’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. He was curious to find out what his beauty might say.

“Observe...for now,” Will said slowly, though there was a dark glint in his stormy azure eyes, lashes dipped low as he glanced from Verger to Hannibal. In truth part of him knew he should feel more disturbed by what he was seeing. He probably should be upset, horrified to watch a man slice off flesh from his face while giggling like a maniac and consuming himself. And yet, he wasn’t. He had heard what the Duke had done to the young boys left in his care, what he’d even done to his own sister. He was known as a sadist, a man who reveled in tormenting the vulnerable and weak, but the power he held over others born by his wealth left him in a position of untouchability. He was curious what Hannibal had administered, but knew better than to incriminate either of them by asking.

With a nod, Hannibal stepped closer to Mason, watching as he continued stripping away pieces of his face. “Ah, Mason. You will look quite fetching once you’ve finished.”

“I’ll be the… belle of the ball!” Mason grinned, blood dripping down what was once his face. He gestured and took a bow. “You really need to tell me where you...procured this concoction! It’s fabulous!”

“It is especially for you, but I would not want to give away all my secrets.” Hannibal smiled, but his eyes were glaring at the Duke. He turned back to Will to see his face.

Will’s eyes were full of nothing but love for his handsome beau, and he beamed at him. “I love you so much, Hannibal. I want to be with you and you alone, forever, with nothing to ever again come between us. Please say yes? Marry me, Hannibal Lecter?” he asked, eyebrows lifted with his comely face full of hope.

It was a surprise to say the least, then again, Will always had a way of doing that. It was then that Mason passed out, still on his throne behind them, and Hannibal took Will’s face in both hands and kissed him soundly, smiling into it. “Yes, my love. I will marry you. Nothing would bring me more pleasure. I love you, Will.”

“And I, you. You know, Hannibal, I have for so long wanted to leave this life behind, but Jacques would never allow it. With him gone, Bella can’t run the business on her own. Why don’t we have Price and Zeller run it and then we can run away together? I know you have no money, but that doesn’t matter to me. We can do whatever...wherever...just...too many bad memories here in Paris for me. I always longed to fly away…”

“A new life can be made, a place for the both of us,” Hannibal murmured, then walked over to Mason. He broke his neck, making sure it wouldn’t kill him, he wanted him to live out his days looking like the monster he was. Naturally, he’d move him before they left and he knew he wouldn’t tell anyone what happened - too damaging to the Duke’s ego.

Walking back to Will as though what he’d just done was normal and natural, he leaned in and kissed him. Hannibal has planned on suggesting they go but Will being the one to mention it, made it all the more sweet. “We will do precisely that, however we needn’t worry for money. I was simply biding my time until my inheritance, at the age of twenty-five. My family is quite wealthy. We will not want for anything and Price and Zeller will be compensated.”

“Really?” Will’s damp red lips parted in surprise. “I had no idea. And I would have gone with you in any event, but that is wonderful, my beloved Hannibal. I am utterly devoted to you. And I’m pleased to know my friends will be cared for…”

“Yes, and I believe you. I am quite devoted to you as well. As for your friends, leave then a letter. It would almost be polite,” Hannibal added in reference to leaving. He smiled, his arms going around his beloved. The teacup was coming together, all the shattered pieces from the Duke and the late Jacques mended with gold. Will never needed to know Hannibal had been aware of his illness.

They had each other, conjoined, and they’d never survive separation.

  
  



End file.
